Learning to Fly on the Wings of a Sparrow
by ChocolateGumdrops
Summary: "But I'm supposed to chase pirates, not horizons!" "Are ye? Or do ye just not know yer destiny?" "What?" "Lad, ye can't run from fate. She always gets her way no matter what YOU want."
1. Prologue

Dark eyes flashed at the two figures before them, conveying secrets too heavy to speak. The two men silently nodded, one of them backing off and preparing to leave while the other stayed put, opening his mouth. A raspy noise came out, slightly angering the man with the dark gaze.

"Ye shouldn't have ta _kill_ him at all. Ye'd best make sure things get done as I tol' ya. Now get!"

The dark man waved the two figures away with a motion of his ringed hand. As soon as they'd left, he stood. He was lodged in a room above a pretty little parlor belonging to a nice little family who'd had enough decency to allow him in without asking the origins of his money. They'd probably all have heart attacks right there on the spot if they knew where he'd acquired it. A tired little smirk graced his lips and he moved to the window off on the left of his bed. A small room it was, with enough space for a bed, chest, drawers and a bit of room to walk around.

"Wot in tha world are ye doin' old man?"

He heaved a sigh as he watched a few drunks scramble across the road in the moonlight. Night was the time for demons to come out and play, and for devils to start on their work. Much like he himself was. He sighed and moved away from the window, drawing the shabby old curtains closed in the process. Something told him that he was setting a fire that would blaze out of control, but he did not care in the least. He would rather sit back fiddling just as Nero did, and watch as "Rome" burned. Yes. He'd rather set the blaze then leave it. Watching from a distance seemed much more plausible…


	2. Author's Note

**_Disclaimer- The only character I own in this story comes into play later own. I DO NOT own Jack or any other characters you can easily say "Hey I know YOU!" to. _**

**_Summary-_****_ So before I explain what its all about, I should apologize to any who liked my old version. I'm sorry I deleted the story but I promise you, I can do much better as you will see. ;) Now then, onwards with what its all about! _**

**_Now we all know Jack Sparrow, or excuse me, _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, as the eccentric, rum-soaked, sea-loving, wobbly-legged, silver-tongued pirate (whew, what a mouthful!) who has a heart and conscience that he tends to hide more often than not. But we don't know too much about where he came from or what made him the way he is. So in order to explain this all to you, patience and reviews are required! In other words my dear friends, this means if you like my story REVIEW! :) I do not care whether you have an account or if you are new to the site and just browsing through. YOU can review too! _**

**_So I hope you enjoy this story and please give it a good chance! Merci beacoup!_**


	3. Departure

"Do you think-"

"No."

"But fa-"

"I said no."

Jonathon frowned at his father from across the carriage. The proud man sat tall and stiff, muddied hazel eyes staring forward and a slight frown tugging the corners of his mouth down. He occasionally looked out of the carriage window, though he returned his gaze to it's former position just as quickly. Jonathon didn't mind though. His thoughts and attention were focused on making his father see things his way.

"Will you at least tell me _why_ you keep saying no father?"

The man heaved a sigh and turned to look directly at his young son. The soft, slick hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and his dark eyes were brimming with restrained disappointment, held back by his willpower. He couldn't help but smirk with relief and joy at the thought he had a perfect son. The boy was nearly eleven, separated from the mark by only a month or so, and yet he was already begging to be allowed on the _Tide's Song_ with his father. The Admiral reached over the empty space between them and placed a roughened hand on the back of the boy's neck, smiling at him gently.

"Will _you_ at least tell _me_ why you want to come along?"

He withdrew his large hand and placed it back in his lap, watching with a slight, building amusement as the boys lower lip slowly began poking out.

"What have I told you about pouting lad?"

The boy looked startled but quickly retracted the lip and bit down the scowl before it even had a chance to appear. He looked down and swallowed.

"That it's not proper at all and that I should like to have an extra weeks worth of work for that."

The man nodded and appeared to look forward again, though he slipped a sly glance at the young boy every now and again. He couldn't help but feel slightly bad about his slight threat just now, but so went the trials of parenting, right?

"You don't really dislike your tutor that much, do you Jonathon?"

The boy looked up and father and son locked gazes.

"Well, I suppose not Father. I apologize. I did not mean to insinuate-"

His father waved him off and chuckled.

"Look lad, I don't wish to make you miserable at all. I just want the best for you. And for you to know that I intend to keep you safe."

He became serious.

"That is why you cannot come along with me on my trip. Port Royal is a very long ways off lad and the Caribbean is infested with the crawling vermin you've been studying about. I cannot keep _you_ safe while commanding my men and capturing pirates all at the same time."

Admiral Wolfe tipped his disappointed son's face up and shook his head ever so gently.

"But Father I could keep myself safe! And I could help you too-"

"No Jonathon. And that is final. Now lay this subject to rest, will you? Perhaps when you are older we'll discuss this a bit more. Alright?"

Quietly, and no longer able to hide the disappointment, Jonathon nodded. He had knew it was hopeless when he'd begun trying, but for some reason he had this idea that it would be different now. He _was_ almost eleven. He could take care of himself. But yet his father still answered the same. No, he could _not_ come along on his pirate hunting expedition. Jonathon forced his own gaze out of the carriage window, trying extremely hard to hide the sulking. After all, it wasn't in the least bit proper or becoming. He _did_ have his father to make proud and the man had eyes on him at all times. How suspicious it would look if the man could not control his own son. Jonathon couldn't do that to his father; he loved him much too much.

A sudden jerk in the overall gentle riding, jolted Jonathon out of his thoughts and he stretched further to get a better look out of the window. They had halted just before a carriage and a man riding a horse and with a sinking feeling, Jonathon pulled back. He looked back up to his father who was waiting for the door to be opened for him. Jonathon felt a lump building in his throat.

"Father, are you…"

His voice faltered and he looked down to his hands that were settled in his lap.

"Are you sure I can't come along?"

He instantly regretted asking, seeing his father's eyes flash with irritation and his jaw stiffen. He panicked slightly but let out a tiny sigh when the door flew open. Just in time too. He could tell his father had been about to say something, his mouth hanging slightly open.

Noticing the fresh eyes on him though, the Admiral settled for shooting his son a meaningful glance and when he spoke, it was through gritted teeth.

"Stay here until I send for you. Your aunt's escort and I have a few words to discuss."

Jonathon shrunk down in his seat, ignoring the slam of the door behind his father's exit. He let out a hefty sigh and let his head rest against the back of the carriage. Today was the day that his father left on a trip to Port Royal to help cut down the pirate and outlaw population, handpicked by the king for his tremendous skill. However, he would be gone for close to three years, which was longer than the last time. Last time he was only gone for one year and two months. But the reason Jonathon hated that he couldn't come along wasn't solely based upon the eagerness he felt for wanting to follow in his father's footsteps. It was also partially because, however much he loved his aunt, she was a very boring and _very_ religious woman. She had been widowed for nearly four years and that had caused her to turn to the Lord above. It wasn't that Jonathon was disgusted with that. It was just the fact that she had begun to become overbearing with it all.

"Jonathon!"

He started at the loud tone of his father's voice and quickly pressed his face to the glass of the window so he could see better. A tall man with a tanned face and light scar across his cheek was walking with his father back toward the carriage, seeming to be talking. His father appeared to be satisfied that this man was okay to transport his only son, and so Jonathon, as happily as he could, jumped from the carriage when the man opened the door. If his father trusted the men, then so did Jonathon.

He missed the muffled look of surprise that the man wore when he looked at him, his eyes set on the tall, strong figure of his father. Tears were becoming a bit too hard for him to choke back and Jonathon had to look down to avoid embarrassment, but his father simply sighed and approached him, wrapping him in a warm embrace. Jonathon tightly returned it, not wanting to let go. Now it was the fears of losing him that prevented Jonathon from letting the man go unhindered. But the Admiral strongly yet gently pried him away, kneeling down to look him in the eyes. He squeezed Jonathon's arms and smiled at him, despite his earlier show of anger.

"Johnny, its going to be alright. I promise you. Time is going to fly by and before you know it I shall be back here with you telling you of all my adventures and such. Smile will you?"

Jonathon reluctantly nodded, watching his father stand and turn halfway around. He would have stood quietly, allowing the hand of the tall man to rest on his shoulder, if a sudden cold fright hadn't grabbed him and thrust him forward to grasp his father again. The man frowned but rested a hand on Jonathon's shoulder while he mumbled into his father's vest.

"Please come back safely father. I can't bear the thought of losing you. I love you."

The tall man turned ever so slightly and shot a glance behind him at his carriage driver who, stiffly and unnervingly, returned it.

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><p><strong><em>Remember, <span>REVIEW PLEASE! :) Merci!<span>_**


	4. Torrents and Shock

**_Thanks to trainsgirl13 for her review! She gets a mega-super-awesome cupcake for being the first one! :D I really appreciate it! And remember, ANYONE can review so do just that, won't you? :)_**

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><p>Jonathon had allowed himself to be pried away from his father and dutifully led back to his escort's carriage, standing tall and choking back the tears as he watched his father's carriage pulling away. He sighed and suppressed the urge to chase after the Admiral, looking instead up to the face of the man behind him. The man's countenance was stiff and unreadable and Jonathon wasn't sure why he got a cold feeling when those blue eyes settled on his face. The man was expressionless yet stern at the same time and Jonathon felt a spark of something disconcerting as he was ushered to the door of his new carriage.<p>

However, he pushed all nervousness aside and attributed it to the wild emotions of his father's departure. Though it _was_ slightly odd that his aunt would send her escort to wait for him in the middle of the road, which was settled in the middle of the woods. But his father had seen fit to leave him with the men so he wouldn't question it.

He ignored the rough slam of the door and frowned when he felt a rough jerk forward, signifying the carriage moving forward. He instead closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He wasn't quite sure when exactly he fell asleep, admitting to himself that he'd been dozing for what seemed like quite a while, but he did know that when he was finally out he dreamt some very odd things.

When he dreamt, he was on a ship with his father running around and doing whatever chores needed doing. Everything was wonderful and they were all happy and content. However, somewhere along the way a storm had suddenly raged up and the ship was all in a mess, tossing and turning this way and that. He remembered panicking because he could not find his father, but then, with a sharp strike of lightening, a fire was lit upon the deck and it illuminated figures all around. No matter how the water sloshed about to extinguish the fire it still blazed, sometimes even brighter. Yet suddenly, through that blaze Jonathon could see his father… holding a knife to a man's throat. A surge of hatred suddenly coursed through Jonathon, fiercer than the blazing fire that was engulfing the ship. The next thing he knew, he was walking through the fire, letting it engulf him no matter the slight sting he felt. And that was all that there was, a slight sting. He watched his father's face turn from love for him, to pleading, to pure fear as Jonathon opened his mouth and a stream of fire-

A huge jerk brought Jonathon's eyes fluttering open and he took a moment to gather his surroundings. He heard a loud roaring sound and rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he leaned over and peered out of the window. Though it was significantly smaller, not mention the inside of the carriage was not as luxurious as his father's, he could still see through the foggy glass. It seemed that it was pouring rain so hard you could barely see the remnants of the muddy road. He felt a pang of pity for the driver, but the emotion was unconsciously dismissed as quickly as it appeared. Instead, his thoughts traveled to his aunt and how she would go about making sure he still completed his studies. As much as he liked the man, he didn't think Thompson Loughwell would travel all the way from London out to the countryside everyday just to tutor _him_. It was a lovely thought though.

He leaned his head back again and crossed his legs out of habit. He found himself hoping that his father wasn't caught out in the storm and that he wouldn't be too swamped with duties when he arrived to his ship. That would more than likely not make for a very good start.

Jonathon found himself uncrossing his legs again and settling further back into the seat, his eyes closing again. The rain and gloominess outside would definitely explain his lethargy. And his thoughts were all muddled up as he retreated further back into his warm collar. He found that his head was drooping but he didn't fully comprehend the fact. It was only when the sudden stop of the carriage threw his head back and he bumped it, that he woke up enough to frown and push himself forward to see what had happened. As he peered out he had to narrow his eyes to make out the shapes of a few quickly moving horses and their riders, as well as even more carriages of various shapes and sizes. Then behind that he could make out the shapes of various buildings, which was odd considering his aunt didn't live in a town at all. He was just leaning back when the door was violently thrown open and a dripping wet, blue-eyed man was staring at him fiercely. He flinched back, partially out of sudden fright and partially out of disgust for the sudden cold and rain that had invaded the inside of the cabin.

"Time ta get out lad."

Jonathon's eyebrows drew down in confusion and a disgusted look twisted his face.

"No! I don't mind if this is just a temporary stop, which it obviously must be for my aunt does not live in a town. But I will _not_ be stepping out into that freezing mess! How dare you even think that I would! No. If you want me out you're going to have to wait until the rain lets up."

Jonathon wrinkled his nose and looked back out to the driving rain that had now soaked the man completely to the bone. He tried to scoot over to the other side but the man grabbed his upper right arm and jerked him over to the entrance. Jonathon yelped in surprise and pain and became to shocked to do anything as the man dragged him out of the carriage and into the torrent. The man wrenched his arm at an odd angle and in response Jonathon nearly went to his knees, barely registering the raspy voice through his pain.

"Get yer'self movin now, brat. I don't have time fer playin' around. Now shut yer damn trap an' walk along!"

Jonathon whimpered in fright as the man twisted his arm at yet another angle, this one not quite so painful, and brought his other arm around Jonathon's shoulders. The man pulled him closely, more so it wouldn't look as though something were wrong. Not that anyone would have stopped that is. The rain was heavy so as to blur the sight of them enough that one could have mistaken them for family anyways.

Jonathon however, was painstakingly aware that they were nothing like family. Far from it in fact, and by now he was thoroughly frightened. But he hadn't enough time to really even think things over, because before he knew it he'd been shoved out of the rain and into warmth. He stood as straightly as he could, with his arm still in a vice-like grip, and cringed when he felt hot sticky breath on his neck and heard a raspy voice in his ear.

"Now ye jus' behave yerself an' be a nice, _quiet_ lad. Not a word or I'll have yer tongue boy."

Too frightened and shocked to speak anyway, Jonathon nodded just as a short, portly woman came bustling in through one of the three doors leading into the room. The man hastily smiled at her and pushed Jonathon forward with him toward a set of stairs leading to a second level. If he hadn't been so scared, Jonathon might have enjoyed the cozy feeling the warm little parlor area provided. He also might have appreciated the motherly concern in the woman's voice when she spoke.

"… Mr. Spencers? What…?"

The man behind Jonathon, or Spencers as he now knew him, simply smiled tensely and pushed his little prisoiner along even further.

"Mrs.-"

"Spencers! There ye are, you lazy ol' brute. I was wonderin' where ye'd gotten off to."

Jonathon looked up, drawing his gaze from the floor and meeting that of a new man who was now standing solidly before them upon the steps. One with a dark, brooding gaze and midnight black hair that was tied back, complete with a strong commanding air that instantly filled Jonathon with more dread and fright. Somehow he was even more afraid of this new intruder than the man violently twisting his arm…


	5. Swords and Fright

Jonathon found himself hitting the deck with a heavy thud, his dulled sword clattering away from him. He made an effort to crawl forward to reach it but was stopped short by another, sharper sword digging into the skin along his neck and drawing a very thin line of blood. A wave of frustration and hopelessness whirled through him, as unsettled as the sea itself. As was usual every day, Jonathon was 'training' with Teague, the captain of the Misty Lady and the man who'd ordered for him to be kidnapped two years ago. The man was hardly kind at all, but at least Jonathon wasn't dead by now as Teague had so furiously reminded him time after time. Rather, he kept Jonathon walking on eggshells every day. One morning Teague might be patient and careful with him while that evening his temper would lash out and result in a bruised rib for Jonathon. Yet the thing that confused the boy the most was the fact that Teague would always, as much as his stubborn pride would allow, let him be to heal for a day or so before quietly (almost with a nearly imperceptible touch of remorse) easing him back into his training.

Jonathon had asked him once, when he was on one of his brave tirades, why he even needed to be trained or tested with sword fighting and the response he got back was rather sharp and final, so he didn't push it any farther. Apparently, even though Jonathon had received some training from his father's first mate, and was fairly good with the fighting, he still didn't know how to fight quite right. Or rather, how to fight like Teague wanted him to fight. And it was that entire idea that brought him back to the present. That and Teague's rough voice.

"Once again, yer caught off guard."

"Maybe if I didn' have to fight in such a stupid way-"

"It won' be stupid to ye when yer in a life or death situation. What'll ye do then lad?"

Carefully and gently, Jonathon pushed himself to his knees and wiped his sweaty hands on his dirty pants, scowling at the man now relaxing behind him. He twisted his head around to stare angrily at Teague before rolling back onto his heels.

"I'll run away. Seems much more plausible to me."

Teague frowned back to Jonathon, and for a moment he wondered if he'd gone too far with the man again. However, Teague simply snorted and shook his head, causing several of the trinkets woven into his hair to click together in their own simple language. Those dark eyes that mirrored his own, seemed to pull Jonathon up from his crouch and set him forward across the deck to his own sword. It was dulled and blunted on the edge so that he couldn't do much more than bruise with it, but it was still somewhat of a relief once Jonathon had it in his hand again. Reluctantly he turned back around to look tiredly at Teague and await what he had to say.

"Ye've got ta pay attention at all times lad. Ye never know when ye'll be cornered. I coulda killed ye twice just now… an' why're ye still lookin' at me like I'm tha devil 'imself?"

Jonathon cringed and quickly looked down. He hadn't realized he'd been doing that at all.

"Wot's on yer mind so often thas' gotcha not payin' attention?"

Jonathon lowered his head and stared fixedly at the ground. Images and sounds replayed themselves over and over again in his head. He could feel the rain soaking him to the bone. His arm was being wrenched out of place once more. He shook his head. There was no need to let Teague know it was the nightmare of a memory, continuously playing out in his head, of the day he'd been torn from his family. It would only hurt him more, physically by Teague and mentally by himself. A constant thorn in his side was all it was. But somehow Teague didn't need to hear Jonathon tell him. He _knew_.

"Why don't ye go put that away then go 'ave fun with yer friend."

Jonathon's head shot up at the quiet tone in the man's voice and he watched Teague walk past him softly. Carefully, Jonathon twisted around to watch Teague ascend the stairs further up deck and sheath his sword before speaking with the pirate at the helm. The familiar dull ache of pain began pounding through him again as he watched the appearances of the two men fade to the appearances of his father and his first mate. He lowered his head and allowed the shoulder-length black hair to fall in his face, to shield the burning tears that threatened to overcome him. He wondered if his father had even been told of his disappearance. He half hoped so, and half hoped not. If his father had been told then he would like to think he was currently looking for him. Yet, something warned him that he didn't want his father to know, because that would mean the man would be distraught with grief and that would make him more vulnerable to those pirates.

Jonathon winced at the tang of blood on his lip and lifted his head up slowly, turning to walk back to his quarters so he could return the practice sword. Gently he swiped his tongue across the cut on his lip where he'd absently bitten it before he began to walk slowly, back to the captain's quarters. He only stopped when he nearly ran headfirst into the door. He looked at it with a frown, uncomprehending, before he forced his mind to start working again and turned down the short hallway to the next door. Technically it wasn't even a hallway. Just a short enclosed space the length of two doors. Each one opened up to another room, specifically for passengers and guests.

He was never quite sure why Teague had him placed in the bigger of the two instead of with the rest of the crew below decks. But after seeing the crew's living space once, he hadn't been too keen to argue the idea. Slowly he pushed the door open and tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. The inside of his room was lit by a few candles, despite the fact that it was still light outside, and his eyes were immediately drawn to the bed at the far corner of the room. He crossed to it and bent to slide the sword underneath. The entire room overall was small, containing only the thin bed which was pushed up against the farthest wall, a dresser beside it with a mirror resting atop and a chest opposite the dresser.

Jonathon was just standing back up, his hand on the bed to help brace himself, when a voice startled him. He swung around, falling back onto the bed and let out a yelp causing the figure in the doorway to clasp his hands to his gut and double over laughing. The figure was shrouded in shadows making it hard for Jonathon to discern who he was, but a stumble forward brought him into enough light to make identification possible. A hiss voiced Jonathon's frustrations and he found himself giving the figure a glare.

"Honestly Billy? Ye had to scare me?"

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	6. I've got a Plan!

"I'm sorry Johnny."

Jonathon watched Billy give him a wide grin before gesturing to the open door way behind him.

"Ya kinda left it open so…"

Jonathon growled in mock frustration and let himself fall backwards onto the bed, his gaze penetrating the ceiling. Somehow, when Billy had been found hiding away on the ship and brought to Teague, Jonathon had known the boy and he would get along. It was something in his eyes; the defiance of a lion shining. And sure enough the prediction had come true. Billy and Jonathon had become inseparable fairly quickly and thanks to the strong bond, and in part to Jonathon's pleading, Billy had stayed on board the Misty Lady when he'd had various chances to leave. Jonathon forced himself up onto his elbows and stared at Billy with a grin.

"So, tha cap'n just gave me leave for the rest o' the day."

Billy chuckled and made his way forward, making himself at home and sinking down onto Jonathon's bed beside him. Though he was nearly four years older than Jonathon, Billy was rather childish at times and that in itself was part of the reason they got along so well. However, there were times when he did show his older nature. Namely when Jonathon and he disagreed over something, or when Jonathon showed his needy or emotional side. And Jonathon knew he was too clingy at times, but Billy was pretty much all he had on this brutish ship full of wolves.

"So I heard somethin' today… About a port-"

Jonathon shot up all the way and narrowed his eyes at Billy. A feeling of panic was fluttering up inside him.

"I thought ye'd agreed not to leave 'til Teague let's me go."

"Or until you manage to get away from 'ere. I haven't forgotten our deal Johnny."

"Then what's going on?"

Billy's grin widened and a flicker of something passed across his brown eyes. He forced himself up to his feet again, playfully swatting at the back of his Jonathon's head.

"Always so quick ta worry ain't cha?"

"No, but I don't exactly take kindly to bad news either."

Billy huffed and rolled his eyes as Jonathon studied him with a suspicious glare in the dim light.

"I have a plan Johnny! God! You worry too much."

Jonathon quickly shifted his gaze, embarrassment coloring his cheeks as he stood and pushed past his friend. In hindsight, he had been a bit foolish to jump onto something that wasn't even there, but panic had taken him under its wing. It was more the fact that he had no one but Billy left thanks to Teague, and he wasn't quite sure he could go back to the loneliness that had existed for him before. A sudden hand around his arm jerked him back away from the door. He looked back up to see Billy peering at the cracked door and then back down to him with a stern countenance. Billy towered over Jack by a few inches and he used that to his advantage while ushering him towards the chest across from the dresser. Both settled down on the ground, Jonathon cross-legged and a bit put-off by his earlier display of mistrust and Billy sitting back on his heels. With one last glance at the door he looked back to his friend and held up a finger.

"First off, no interruptin'."

Jonathon nodded, aggravated.

"Now, I heard from a little birdie that cap'n Teague's gonna make port in Tortuga next. Ya know wot that means right?"

Jonathon forced a smile and nodded, trying not to look confused. He actually had no idea what that meant, but he wasn't going to tell Billy that and look even more of a fool. However, Billy wasn't a fool and he caught the confusion before Jonathon could hide it.

"Alright look, Tortuga is the biggest pirate haven in tha Caribbean. We're nearly there. A few days away in fact. So this means tha crew's not gonna be so worried and focused on their own hides like normal. Or yours. They're gonna be focused on gettin' drunk and the whores! So you an' I can sneak off tha ship!"

Jonathon couldn't fight down the explosion of hope and happiness that sent shockwaves of joy through him. His ebony eyes grew wide and he couldn't choke down the yelp of excitement. This was actually the first time in two years he'd had hope of getting away from the ship and he couldn't help himself. He shot forward and tackled Billy, giggling the whole time. As soon as they hit the ground he was jumping up again and zipping all around the room, mumbling this and that about reuniting with his father again. Billy was happy for him and wanted more than anything to let him jump around and act a crazy fool, but he also knew there were ears all over the ship and he didn't want anything getting out. Especially by the mouth of Craigs. Craigs was the ship's snitch and no one really liked him. Not even the captain. But Teague kept him around regardless, more for the fact he owed someone and this was the best way to repay them; babysit their pitiful nephew for a while.

Swiftly, Billy snagged Jonathon and covered his mouth with his hand all in one fluid motion. Carefully he eyed the younger boy with a meaningful glare before slowly releasing him. Jonathon cracked a soft, apologetic smile at Billy before putting and hand to his head and sinking down. Luckily the chest was behind him and it broke his sharp descent. A splitting headache was beginning to hammer Jonathon's senses and his thoughts were becoming muddled with doubts. Teague never took a chance with him. He always had men guarding him whenever they docked at a port, making sure Jonathon couldn't escape. What would make this port any different? He knew what Billy had said, but still. He voiced his concerns too, wearily looking up to his friend. Billy didn't have to worry about it. He was free to go (disregarding their deal in that case) whenever he wanted. In fact, if it wasn't for his quick learning and skill with the rigging, he wouldn't have even been allowed to stay.

"I have a plan, it just hasn't reached that far yet Johnny. Trust me, I'll figure something out between now and then. But I need ye ta stay quiet alright?"

Jonathon frowned and reluctantly nodded. He was fairly sure it wouldn't work. After all, he was trapped here with no escapes. You couldn't exactly run away from a ship in the middle of the ocean. But Billy seemed so sure… He watched as Billy forced a smile at him and ruffled his hair like he would a kid brother. Jonathon tried to duck away, but his hair was already messed up and tossed around. Without a glance back, Billy left the small little cabin and retreated back out onto the deck. Jonathon was tempted to follow, but there had been something in Billy's exit that had been off. Something in his actions that had betrayed irritation with Jonathon. The thought crossed his mind that he was just imagining things but he knew that wasn't the case. _Something_ was off.

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	7. Hostage?

Jonathon awoke to the somewhat violent pitching of the ship beneath him and the heavy sound of thunder above him. The nightmare of the burning ship and his father had replayed itself except this time he knew who the man being threatened was. His father had been holding a knife to Teague's throat and Jonathon had for some reason been thoroughly enraged and angered. He had advanced upon his father with blazing walls of flame encasing him and embodying his fury. But Jonathon wasn't quite sure why he was so angry at his father, nor why he was so protective of Teague. If anything it should have been reversed.

Another pounding of thunder sent shivers down Jonathon's spine and he gave up on the thought of getting any more sleep. He rolled over and sat up, biting down a yawn and slipping out of his bed. He staggered a few steps forward before he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. He had fallen asleep in the same dirty white shirt and faded brown pants that he'd been wearing for weeks upon weeks and his hair was matted and dirty. He'd given up long ago on mourning the absence of baths on board the ship and as a result he'd become rather used to the disgusting smells. He leaned in closer to get a better look at himself and he noticed the dark purple circles under his eyes from stress and working and training… His skin was also oddly pale underneath his acquired tan and looked rather thin.

He backed away from the mirror and let his gaze roam to the door, where he slowly began walking to. He hadn't realized his appearance had become so pitiful. That might explain why Teague had been taking it easier on him lately. Even he was a little shocked at how much the entire ordeal had taken out of him. Cautiously he poked his head out of the door and looked over to the right, his attention suddenly focused on interacting voices. He frowned at the sound trying to discern it, but failing. Much against his better judgment, Jonathon slowly stepped out into the little wooden cove and craned his head to see if it was just his imagination, or if someone was really outside of Teague's cabin, standing in the doorway. A sudden lurch of the ship brought him slamming back into the door he'd just shut behind him and he let out a yelp as he hit his arm wrong. Another roll sent him to the ground and he found himself groaning in a curled up ball. He didn't know what happened other than he'd hurt his arm again. He'd had problems with it since Spencers had twisted it so long ago.

When he was finally able to uncurl himself he found that he was eye-level with a soggy pair of boots. Painfully he ground his teeth and closed his eyes, fear prickling him all over. Now he'd done it. No one was supposed to be allowed on deck except for the watch, after curfew and here Jonathon was. And caught snooping nonetheless. There was another pitch but the boots' owner did little more than sway with it. Jonathon answered with a groan as the boat rose and put more pressure on his hurt arm. With a panicky gasp, he registered Teague's angry voice as a second pair of boots appeared behind the first.

"Wot in tha… You spying little piece of-"

"Please! Keep your temper for once will you? It's obvious he's hurt himself. Let's deal with that first, eh?"

Jonathon cringed when he felt large hands underneath his arms, hauling him up. He tried to pull away, but the strong arms jerked him backwards and held him against a strong chest. Opening his eyes a little he registered the infuriated eyes of Teague glaring at him before he turned and retreated back to his cabin. Without much choice he was led by the man holding him up to Teague's cabin. He managed a glance over his shoulder and noticed with confusion that there were men from another crew huddling together and interacting with a few of Teague's crew, being pelted by rain.

"Easy does it lad. In there, not out on deck."

As if to prove his words, the man gently nudged him towards the doorway of Teague's cabin and continued steering them both on through it. Pausing for a moment to take all of it in, Jonathon sucked in a sharp breath at the rich decorations adorning the room. Even the Persian rug farther back towards Teague's sleeping quarters signified richness. Gently, Jonathon's guide eased him to a chair, where he cradled his arm against his chest. Teague cast them both a dark look before fishing in his desk for a ring of keys and retrieving his coat. Mumbling and swearing under his breath he left Jonathon to the unknown figure behind him, to go fetch the ship's doctor. As soon as the door slammed shut, the figure sauntered into view to the desk and twirled around to face Jonathon.

He felt his breath catch in his throat as he looked at the young man before him. He was the spitting image of Teague, save for the eye color. Same long sharp nose, defined cheek-bones and tanned, smooth skin. His hair was the same midnight black color, with a thick wavy consistency to it and he had the same regal look to him. However, there was something in those blue-green eyes that caught Jonathon off guard. But the man smiled at him and crossed his arms.

"So who are you? Teague's not one ta just open 'is arms and let anyone on board."

He grinned at Jonathon but Jonathon was careful to answer, seeing something keen in those eyes.

"Didn't really have a choice I guess."

The man frowned and looked to the door before he turned his gaze back to Jonathon and eased forward, that spark in his eye now a sharp concern.

"Are you alright? You don't look so healthy."

"I'm fine."

"I know my father has a temper-"

Jonathon's head shot up, his ebony eyes suddenly stretched to their limits. Did he say 'father'?

"I see you're shocked… Hmmm. Well I must be awfully important to be talked of so much."

He laughed and Jonathon found himself entranced. This stranger was Teague's son and yet they were polar opposites. He loosened the grip on his hurt arm as he looked to the man in awe. He was still so young too. He couldn't have been older than twenty-one.

"I'm sorry. I just-"

"Oh it's fine lad. He and I butt heads quite often. Worst fight we ever had was a few years ago."

Jonathon frowned and looked down. He didn't really want to get into the family drama. All he'd done was wake up in the middle of a storm and look where it got him. Damn his curiosity.

"He actually didn't want to let me go. From the ship I mean. We had a big argument about it. He was just too-"

He paused and churned the air with his hands searching for the right word. Jonathon, caught up in the moment, was more than ready to supply him with the right words.

"Overbearing? Demanding?"

The man looked piercingly to Jonathon and suddenly something in the air shifted. The man's young face creased with anger and knowing and Jonathon's drained to fear and understanding. The knives of pain in his arm grew sharper and the temperature in the room dropped.

"He's keeping you hostage here isn't he?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Reviews are God's gift to writers... or just a reader's gift to writers. You pick. But while you're at it, review won't you? :)<strong>_


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